Potato Boat
Dads back, I hear his heavy tread,?
mum pretends not to hear.?
?
The Kitchen door opens?
he knuckles me on the back of the head,?
this is his one affectionate gesture,?
he had others, but those he keeps for special occasions,?
like when a women I was told to call ‘aunty Doris'?
and he were alone.?
?
Mother does not turn toward him,?
but I know her eyes are wet with dry sherry.?
“Fifteen minutes”. She says?
that’s how long it takes to slow cook 2 sausages.?
Dad nods to her back,?
goes to the fridge, hooks out a cold one.?
?
I have made a kind of boat with my mash,?
the gravy is inside it,?
I imagine sailors bailing. The boat is barely afloat,?
I keep bailing? also
hoping my life won’t sink today.
© 3 days ago
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